


no matter how far

by alotofthingsdifferent, cherryvanilla



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Online Dating, Phone Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 07:53:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4092985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/pseuds/alotofthingsdifferent, https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny stares at the website on the screen in front of him, wondering how it came to this. He doesn’t really use the internet for anything more than connecting to various apps -- NHL.com, The Weather Channel, Spotify. He isn’t a social media person, nor has he ever wanted to be. </p>
<p>So the fact that he’s about to sign up for a dating site, that he’s trusting the <i>internet</i> with something as important as that, is a little hard to swallow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no matter how far

**Author's Note:**

> I said to amandaj: tell me what an online dating au with tazer/seabs would look like. And then we proceeded to write 12ks of it in email together. Huge thanks to ferritin4 for beta <3 And thanks to amanda for allowing me my 'Johnny' spelling ;P You get it your way next time, bb.

Johnny stares at the website on the screen in front of him, wondering how it came to this. He doesn’t really use the internet for anything more than connecting to various apps -- NHL.com, The Weather Channel, Spotify. He isn’t a social media person, nor has he ever wanted to be. 

So the fact that he’s about to sign up for a dating site, that he’s trusting the _internet_ with something as important as that, is a little hard to swallow. 

But he’s also getting really tired of coming home to an empty apartment every night or having meaningless one night stands that get him off well enough but always leave him wanting a little bit more. Worst of all, his friends are starting to get on his case too, saying he’s been moping and grumpy lately and he should stop being a chicken-shit and just get out there for real. 

So Johnny went on a string of pretty awful dates that he let his co-workers and friends set up, until he put his foot down. 

“So do OK Cupid or Match.com or something, man,” Dan said. 

Johnny had resisted for a while before giving in. Well, sort of giving in. He’s just doing the 30-day free trial. After that, no matter what, he’s decided he’s cancelling. 

He stares at the screen again, his profile all complete. He takes a breath and hits post. 

He really hopes this is worth the amount of time it took him the make the damn thing.  
________________________________

It isn’t worth the time. In fact, it’s a waste of time. Everyone who contacts him is generic and boring and more interested in his body than what he has to say. If that was the only thing Johnny was here for, he’d just go to his local club where it’s too loud to talk and the priority is grinding and making out in the bathrooms. 

His 30-day trial is nearly up when he opens his inbox and sees a message from Seabsie07. 

_hi, i like your pic. fisher, huh?_

The picture is just a thumbnail, so he opens up the guy’s profile in a new window. He blinks when he sees his location is Chicago. He has no idea why the guy is contacting him. He set his radius for 40 miles max. He likes this guy’s smile, though. And his face in general. 

He should just roll his eyes and move on, but something makes him browse this guy’s profile. He likes hockey. That’s a checkmark in his favor. He’s originally from Vancouver, so a fellow Canadian. That’s -- pretty cool. He’s a teacher, which, oh. They’ve got that in common, too. He teaches high school to Johnny’s elementary, though. 

So. Three for three. Not bad from just looking at his profile for 30 seconds. Johnny opens up his photos and -- yeah, he really does have a great smile, and none of his pictures are of him wasted or hanging over some guy, so that’s a plus. Johnny’s done the partying type and it’s just not really his scene anymore. At 27, he kind of feels epically old now. 

Brent, apparently, is 30 and -- that’s a plus, too, in Johnny’s book. He did put his age preference as 27 to 35. 

He finds himself clicking reply before he can further analyze it. 

_thanks. yeah, i like to get out on the water as much as i can. you fish?_

The reply comes back pretty quick. _yeah, not as much as i'd like though down here. used to a ton when i lived in BC_

Johnny types back his reply. _what made you jump ship?_

_lol. Well, I decided to go to school in Chicago and just-- stayed. It’s really nice, man. I mean, Dunkin Donuts is shit compared to Timmies, but you can’t have it all_

Johnny laughs loudly, sitting up a little against his pillows. He replies back with his smile on his face, which doesn’t go away until Brent has to say goodnight because tomorrow’s a workday. 

Johnny hadn’t even realized how late it was.  
____________________________

He and Brent make small talk over the next couple days, and Johnny finds himself actually getting a little excited when he's got a new message from Brent.

Except his free trial is due to expire in a day. He really, really doesn’t want to pay for this dumb site when he met _one_ person he’s actually interested in talking to out of the hundreds who contacted him. He sends Brent a message. 

_so, if this is weird, sorry, but my free thing is expiring tomorrow, so would you wanna give me your number? or your email, whatever._

_not interested in sticking this site out then, eh_ is Brent's reply, completely ignoring the question. 

Johnny bites his lip, leaning forward a little on the couch, his laptop balanced on his legs. 

_no, haven't exactly had much luck. every guy on here opens with 'show me ur dick pic, muscles'. height of originality, man._

_yet you wanna keep talking to me_ Brent finally responds, after at least two agonizing minutes. 

Johnny finds himself grinning through his nerves. 

_well. you haven't bored me yet._

_such flattery_ comes the reply. Johnny laughs out loud. 

Then Brent replies again with his number, which leaves the ball completely in Johnny's court.

_texting's okay, then?_ Johnny asks. He’s assuming it is, and he's not really ready for a phone call, honestly, but he figures it’s only polite to check. 

_yeah, man, i've got unlimited for north america, it's fine._

_cool. i'll text you then._

Johnny closes his laptop and sets it down beside him. But not before he cancels his subscription and with it the profile of JT1988.

______________________________

He texts Brent the next day, a picture of the lake from the back of his boat with the word _jealous_ beneath it. 

He laughs when Brent responds back _show me ur dick pic, muscles._

Johnny sends him a pic of the fish he and Dan catch. Well, Johnny catches. Dan's basically dead weight, but he's good company. He captions it with, _here's my ten inches_ , grinning to himself as he sends it. 

"Gonna share with the class over there, smiles?" Dan says over his beer, smirking at Johnny. 

Johnny shrugs, resting his elbow on the side of the boat as they just drift. "That dating site shit you and everyone else told me to give a shot." 

Dan grins. "No fucking way," he says. "You met someone?"

Johnny pulls a face. "No. The guy lives in Chicago, we're not gonna meet. He's just -- nice to talk to."

Just as he says it, Brent responds. _hot, man. you're a real catch._

Johnny's face cracks open and he can't hold in the bubble of laughter. 

Dan just raises one eyebrow when he looks up again. "Uh-huh." 

Johnny rolls his eyes. "He's just being cheesy as fuck, man."

"Sounds like a perfect match," Dan teases, reaching across from where he's seated to ruffle Johnny's hair. 

Johnny bats his hand away, looking back down at his phone. 

_Flattery will get you everywhere_ he types and then backspaces immediately. That's... probably too flirty. Sure, they met on a dating site, but-- well, it'd be kind of stupid to start up with suggestive shit like that when it's not like this can go anywhere. 

Then again, he thinks, retyping the same thing, they're far enough apart that this is safe. He can be flirty without having to worry about the guy wanting to meet. 

He hits send and casts his line again, tucking his phone away for awhile.

He doesn't look at it again until they're back on the shore, Dan getting into his truck and Johnny his car. 

He waves goodbye to Dan and starts the engine, pulling his phone out of his pocket and unlocking the screen. 

_yeah? that's good to know_

Johnny bites his lip, excitement coursing through his veins before he tamps it down.

On a list of epically dumb ideas, falling for someone who lives 1400 miles away has gotta be pretty high up there. 

It doesn’t matter if it’s only a 2+ hour plane ride, he tells tiny part of his brain that disagrees with his assessment. 

_______________________________

They talk every day for the next few weeks, alternating between emails and texts. It becomes a mainstay in Johnny’s days, something he looks forward to when he wakes up and anticipates throughout the day. 

And then one Friday, when Johnny doesn’t feel like going out after work and just wants to veg on his couch and watch some _Game of Thrones_ , Brent tells him he has a date. 

Johnny’s gut reaction is a sickening twist of jealousy. And then he wants to slap himself. That’s fucking stupid. Brent lives in Chicago, they haven’t even met for real, they’re just -- it’s not like this is...

But still. He’s curious. 

_oh, still doing the Match.com then?_ he replies, a heavy lump in his throat. He hopes it at least reads casual in text. 

_nah, stopped that a while ago_ brent texts. 

Johnny's pulse races a little. 

_no, it's a stupid blind date i can't get out of. sharpy swears we're gonna hit it off, won't stop bugging me till i go._

Sharpy is Brent’s co-worker and friend, and from what Johnny can tell, a little obnoxious and difficult to say no to.

_oh, cool_ Johnny responds, trying to play it off. _have fun then._

He tosses his phone aside and ignores the twist in his belly. It's impossible that he's jealous. He doesn't even _know_ Brent. 

He gets a text at 11 that night. 

_crash and burn._

He's laying in his room in just his boxers, covers kicked down to the foot of the bed. He feels a happy flush wash over him at the words and then groans at his own idiocy. He's gotta get this shit under control. 

_that sucks_ , Johnny types, not feeling one ounce of sincerity in his words. 

_not really. like i said, i didn't wanna go._

Oh, Johnny thinks, and suddenly, all he wants is to hear this guy's voice. He never has before. Well, he has briefly, in this dumb video Brent sent him of himself bungee jumping last summer. All he really made out was 'ooooooh shiiiiiiit' while staring at Brent’s thighs and the breadth of his shoulders. 

_Call me?_ Johnny stares at the words for at least 10 seconds before hitting send.

A good twenty minutes go by without a response, and Johnny frets, thinks for sure he crossed a line.

Then his phone rings.

"Hi," he says right away, chewing his lower lip nervously.

"Sorry," Brent says. "I jumped in the shower and didn't get your text until just now."

Johnny flashes, unbidden, on Brent's body. He'd scrolled through his photos thoroughly before deleting his profile and he's seen the beach ones, knows Brent's got a nice chest, pretty toned, not too hairy. Knows what he looks like when he's suntanned and smiling. The thought of him being near-naked while talking to him, maybe still a little wet from the shower, makes Johnny just -- want. 

"S'okay," Johnny replies. "Um. Nice to, uh, hear you?" 

He hears Brent laugh softly on the other end of the line. "Same, man. Can't believe this is the first time we've actually talked."

"So the date sucked?" Johnny asks, and he really hopes Brent can't hear the smile in his voice.

Brent laughs again. "Yeah, it really did. I mean... I suppose he was nice enough, but I, uh, wasn't really feeling it." 

Johnny swallows. "Oh. I can't even remember the last date I was on." He absently drags his palm over his chest as he talks. 

"Was on a few, before we started talking." 

Johnny swallows and grips the phone a little tighter. "Before?"

Brent laughs softly. "What do you want me to say here, man? I haven't been on a date since I started talking to you. Except for tonight."

"Oh," Johnny says, and he can't help it, he's smiling like an idiot.

They sit in comfortable silence for a moment, and Johnny tries and fails to stifle a yawn. 

"I should let you go man," Brent says. "But uh. Would you wanna Skype, maybe? Like, later this week?"

"What, you trying to get rid of me?" Johnny says, and Brent laughs softly.

"No, man, not at all. But you’re obviously tired and I’ve got an early morning myself. But, uh. I'd like to see you. I mean, however we can make that work, Skype or whatever."

Johnny feels a rush of fondness for him. "Yeah, let’s do it. I mean, maybe -- you wanna right now? Just really quick?" 

Brent agrees, and Johnny pulls out his laptop. He types in Brent's username ("It's the same as the one on match," Brent tells him) and hits _call_.

His heart is racing when Brent pops up on the screen, and Johnny suddenly realizes that he’s only half-dressed himself. His cheeks flush, and Brent grins.

"Showing off, huh, muscles?"

"Yeah, well, who sleeps in a t-shirt," Johnny says, cheeks burning, looking at Brent's chest pointedly. 

"That your way of telling me I should take this off?"

Johnny shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant about it.

Brent laughs so hard and so loud his head goes all the way back. It's possibly the most adorable thing Johnny's ever seen. And then he gets whiplash himself because Brent's smoothly lifting his t-shirt over his head, smirking. "Not as ripped as you, but there ya go. We're even, now." 

"Uh," is all Johnny can manage, and he tries really hard to focus on Brent's face and not the smooth planes of muscle on his chest. 

"Lookin' good, Johnny," Brent says with a lazy smile. "Even better than in your pictures."

Johnny scratches at the back of his neck, his go-to nervous gesture. He's glad Brent doesn't know him well enough to be aware of that yet; Dan would give him so much shit right now. 

"Thanks. You too." 

Brent scoffs. "Well, I don't hit the gym as much as you, obviously." 

Johnny rolls his eyes. "Shut up, you look great." 

"Thanks," Brent says softly, and then "Ok. Confession time."

Johnny's stomach drops. Of course, he thinks. This is the moment when he finds out he’s been catfished, that Brent like, lives in Australia in his mother’s basement or something else completely out of left field. 

"Ok," Johnny says slowly.

"I, uh. I kind of sabotaged my own date," he says.

Johnny frowns."I don’t understand."

"I'm not proud of it, but -- I was a big dick. On purpose. The guy was really nice, he just wasn't..." he trails off, and Johnny swallows hard.

"He wasn't you," Brent says simply. They stare at each other for a long, quiet moment. "I know that's stupid. I know you're there and I'm here and we've never even _met_ , but I just. I can't get you out of my head."

Johnny feels his chest unlock and his stomach flutter. 

"What made you contact me?" he asks, because he's been thinking about it. They don't live near each other, he isn't in Brent's required radius like his profile said. 

Now it's Brent's turn to scratch at the back of his neck. He smirks a little. "To be honest, I just wanted to check out some Canadians because I was feeling a little homesick. So I was putting in random combinations and there you were, in all your teaching and hockey and fishing-loving glory. And, uh, maybe your face didn't hurt." 

He laughs quietly. "Gee, thanks," he says. "But, yeah. Same, about the, uh. You know. The not being able to stop thinking about you thing."

Brent's smile is something Johnny could really get used to. He yawns again. 

“I should let you go,” Johnny says, even though he wants to do anything but that. 

Brent smiles lazily, scratching at his scalp and mussing up his hair a little. “Alright. To be continued?" he asks, and Johnny nods.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

"G'night, Jon," Brent murmurs. 

Johnny's stomach dives and swoops at the soft lazy smile on his face. "Night," he replies, a near whisper. 

He's too keyed up for sleep after that, though. Thinking about Brent's words, about how he basically admitted he -- would want to date him. That they obviously would've already _been_ on a date already, if they actually lived closer to one another. 

He grabs his phone. _i'm glad you contacted me, despite the distance_ and rolls over and closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep with thoughts of Brent in his head.  
__________________________________

The next evening, Johnny goes out for a few beers with his buddies. It's Saturday, so he can afford to let loose a bit, and he has a great time shooting pool and catching up with his friends.

When he gets home, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He smiles when he realizes it's Brent. He kicks off his shoes and changes into his sweats, stretching out on the couch and turning on the TV before reaching for his phone to respond.

_hey. what are you up to?_

Brent replies right away. _just hanging out on couch, watching tv._

_same_ , Johnny replies. _had some beers with buddies, just got home a bit ago._

_wish you were here_ is Brent's reply and Johnny’s heart kicks into gear. 

He just stares at the words for long minutes, dragging his thumb over the screen, trying to breathe a little. He hasn't liked someone this much in -- fuck, in a long time. And they haven't even officially _met_ yet. Johnny's decided he doesn't really care about that anymore, though. He was skeptical of this whole online shit from the get-go: it's just never been his preferred method of connection or communication. He resisted Facebook when all his friends in college had been joining, he still has no idea what the point of Twitter even is, and Snapchat confuses the fuck out of him. But he feels like he's gotten to know Brent as well as he would someone who was right in front of face. 

He must spend too long lost in his own thoughts because his phone buzzes in his hand with another text from Brent. 

_shit, i'm sorry if im making it weird or whatever_

Johnny shakes himself out of it. _no! no, you didn't, sorry, just got distracted._ He bites his lower lip and then types, _you really mean that?_

_yeah. i do._

Johnny's a little buzzed and feeling brave, so he asks, _what would we do?_

He holds his breath, waiting for the reply. 

we'd watch tv together. i'd probably make a dumb, too-obvious move to put my arm around you. i'm smooth like that.

_that sounds really great_ Johnny replies, smiling, and he means it. _sucks you're so far away_

_i'd probably kiss you, too._

Johnny goes warm all over just thinking about it. He hasn't kissed anyone in months, and imagining Brent's mouth on his -- well, now he's really wishing Brent was closer.

_i'd let you_ Johnny responds, flush spreading through his body, heat pooling in his groin. 

_god, jon. this is crazy, right? i can't stop thinking about you._

_i can't either,_ Johnny admits. _wanna kiss you so bad, brent._

Johnny's breathing hard, dragging his hand restlessly up and down his chest, already so fucking worked up, when Brent's reply comes. 

_fuck. i just wanna put my mouth all over you johnny you have no fucking idea_

He swallows hard before responding. _jesus. yeah, fuck, i want that too. god, wish i was there right now._

_i'd kiss you all over, jon. start at your mouth, work my way down._

_Brent…_ Johnny types. His fingers are shaking as he does so. He's so fucking hard now, his hand drifting to cup the bulge that's formed beneath his sweats. _dont fucking stop_

_are you hard, jon? i'm so fuckin hard right now, just from thinking about getting on my knees and sucking you off._

Johnny presses the heel of his hand to his dick and groans. 

_why dont u ask me for a pic_ Johnny types, already teasing at the waistband of his pants in anticipation.

_send me a dick pic muscles_ comes the reply and Johnny laughs through his arousal. He lifts his hips, shoving his sweatpants down a little, dragging his boxers along with them. He pulls his dick down, stroking his thumb up the shaft, and takes the picture with his other hand.

He exhales sharply as he hits send. 

He's not expecting his phone to buzz with a call from Brent about 30 seconds after he sends it. 

"Hi," Johnny says, trying to keep his voice steady. 

"Jesus Christ, Johnny."

He laughs, and it's a little breathless. "Was that ok?"

"Fuck, you're so hot," Brent says, his voice rough. "Are you jerking off?"

Johnny nods frantically, sliding his fingers up and down slightly before raising his hand to lick his palm and return it to his aching flesh, stroking with intent now. "Yeah. Are you?" 

"Shit, yes," Brent gasps and Johnny moans in response, head tipping back against the couch and eyes fluttering shut. He spreads his legs a little wider, curling his toes into his carpet. 

"Show me." 

Brent chuckles. "I'm on the phone with you, man. How can I show you?"

"Skype," Johnny says. "C'mon Brent. Fuck, I wanna see you."

"Yeah, ok, I'm hanging up," Brent days, and Johnny does the same. He squeezes his dick and hits _accept_ as soon as Brent's Skype request comes through on his cell phone.

His face pops up on the screen and Johnny licks his lips. "Hi," he says, and Brent grins lazily.

"I believe this is what you wanted to see?" he drawls, and turns the phone so it's focused on his dick. It's long and thick, dark and beautiful, and Johnny’s mouth waters as he watches Brent jerk himself slowly.

"Fuck," Johnny whispers, licking his lips as Brent's dick slides through his fingers. He hears Brent moan softly, watches with hungry eyes as he thumbs over the head. God, Johnny wants that in his mouth, wants to see how much he can take, wants to make Brent feel amazing. 

"C'mon, Johnny, talk to me," he hears Brent say. "Wanna hear your voice."

"Fuck, you look so good," Johnny tells him. "Wish that was my hand on you, wanna touch you so bad."

"Same," he hears Brent gasp out, watches in fascination as Brent squeezes the head of his cock between his thumb and forefinger, before stroking down the length, giving Johnny a show. "God, I think about you all the time, man. Got shit at work the other day for texting all the time now." 

"Shit, sorry," Johnny says, even though Brent's words are sending jolts of want through him, makes him stroke himself harder, faster. 

He hears Brent laugh shakily. "Do I sound like I'm complaining?" 

The talking subsides after that. Johnny's getting off just listening to Brent's ragged breathing and watching him jerk off. He's so close to going off he can feel it down to his toes but he doesn't want this to be over, not yet. 

"Shit, I’m so close," he admits, and Brent groans, turns the phone so his face appears on the screen. He licks his lips and Johnny has to screw his eyes shut and will himself not to come yet. 

"Lemme see you now," Brent murmurs. His face is flushed and he looks so fucking gorgeous. "Only fair. C'mon, baby." 

Johnny angles the phone so Brent's got a good view of his dick and fucks up into his hand, biting his lower lip hard. "That's it, babe," Brent is saying, "Fuck, look at you, _fuck_. Yeah, do it, Jon, c'mon, pretend it's my hand on you."

"Oh, god," Johnny breathes, feeling even more at the brink just from Brent's words, especially the endearments. He's not one to use shit like that much, but god, it's doing it for him now. "I want you so fucking bad." 

"Yeah, sweetheart, that's it. God, you're so hot," Brent's saying, and Johnny can't hold back anymore. He pumps his dick once, twice, then he's coming all over his stomach, his hips lifting off the couch. 

"Fuck," Johnny hears through the rushing of blood in his ears. "Johnny." 

He weakly lifts his phone, sees Brent's face -- his lip pulled between his teeth, his eyes screwed shut. 

"Come for me," Johnny pants out. "Lemme, god, let me see." 

Johnny's mouth practically waters when Brent's dick shows up on the screen again, hard and red and slick in Brent's hand. When he comes, Brent drops the phone.

Johnny can't help but laugh when he hears Brent swear and sees him fumbling for the phone. He smiles when Brent's face reappears on the screen. "Hi," he says, and Brent laughs too. 

"Fuck," he says. "That was great."

"Yeah, we're definitely doing that again," Johnny says, and then, quickly, "I mean, you know, if you want to."

Brent grins. "Of course I do, idiot. God, the only thing better would be if you were actually _here_."

"Yeah," Johnny sighs, looking at Brent's face. God, he wants to touch him."This... sucks." 

"It does," Brent admits. "But -- I don't wanna stop. I really like you, Jon." The last words are low, quiet. 

Johnny's pulse skyrockets and he finds himself grinning down at Brent's face. "Really like you too, man."  
___________________________

_one month later_

"Johnny -- Jon!" Dan yells, waving a hand in front of Johnny's face. 

Johnny jerks his head up. He'd been lost in a long email from Brent, probably smiling dumbly down at his phone. 

"Sorry," Johnny says sheepishly. "Uh, so how's the uh, thing... going?" 

Dan laughs, shaking his head. "The thing. I could've told you I was pregnant and you wouldn't have blinked." 

Johnny makes a face. "C'mon, I'm not that bad." 

Dan scoffs. "Not that bad, yeah, okay. You're completely gaga." 

Johnny scoffs, taking a long pull from his beer. "I am not, nor have I ever been, _gaga_." 

"Why don't you just meet him, man? Ten bucks says you're about to tell me you can't play pool with me tomorrow because you have 'plans with Brent'." He puts the last parts in quotes. 

Johnny narrows his eyes at Dan. "How'd you know that?" 

Dan laughs. "Because it's what you've done the past two weekends, man."

Johnny hadn't realized he'd been that bad, cancelling plans and shit. He just -- wanted to spend as much time with Brent as he could. They were skyping a lot and yeah, some of those sessions led to sex (some of the hottest orgasms Johnny's own hand’s ever given him) but sometimes they just talked and laughed for hours. 

"Sorry, Danny," Johnny says, feeling guilty. "I, uh, you're right though. I do... really like him." 

"So don't you wanna meet him for real, man? You can't keep emailing and shit forever. Don’t you wanna know if he’s the one?” Johnny rolls his eyes at that. 

Danny is a hopeless romantic; Johnny doesn’t have conversations like this with any of his other friends. Johnny never really thought he'd meet 'the one' to begin with, much less meet 'the one' on a dating website. 

"Even if he was, it's what we'd have to do anyway, him there and me here. And like you just said, can't keep emailing him forever, so where the fuck does that leave me, man?" 

"Just ask him if he wants to meet," Dan says. "C'mon, Jon, you know the guy pretty well by now. The worst that can happen is he says no, and you guys just go on doing whatever it is you're doing. Or you won't, whatever, but at least then you'll know."

Johnny thinks about it for the rest of the night. It makes his stomach swoop just thinking about the possibility of meeting Brent, but he doesn't know how to bring it up without making things weird.

"You okay?" Brent asks on the phone later. "You're quiet tonight."

"Huh?" Johnny answers, distracted. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine, just -- tired, I guess."

"You want me to let you go?"

"No, actually, uh. I wanted to ask you something."

"Sure. What's up?"

"Uh. So I thought, maybe, um," he stutters nervously. "When is school out for you?"

"In a couple weeks. You sure you're ok, Jon?"

Now or never, Johnny thinks, and blurts, "Would you want to meet me?"

"Yes," Brent says immediately. "Hell fucking yes." 

Johnny's laughter bubbles out of him, still nervous around the edges. "Yeah?" he says, smiling into the phone. 

"You need me convince you, baby?" Brent replies, voice a low murmur. 

Johnny can't stop smiling. "Come up here. When school's out. Come up and see me." Then he bites his lip. “I mean, like, if you can, moneywise and shit.” 

Brent chuckles quietly. “I can. I haven’t made any summer plans yet and I’ve got some stuff in my savings. Already pulling up Expedia.” 

Johnny can't remember the last time he's been this excited. 

_he's gonna come visit_ he texts Dan later.

_good 4 you, gaga_

Johnny's too happy to even give him shit for that. 

________________________________________________

_just landed_ Brent texts, two weeks later. 

Johnny's nervous as he waits near the baggage claim, and when he looks up for the fifteenth time, he sees Brent walking towards him, a snapback pulled low on his head.

Jesus, he's even more gorgeous in person, and Johnny's stomach is doing that familiar swooping thing again.

"Hey," Brent says, smiling. He's an inch taller than Johnny and Johnny may be more in shape or whatever, but Brent's still got him on broadness. It makes his mouth water. 

"Hey," Johnny says, feeling a little breathless. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do. This guy has seen him _come_ , he shouldn't be this -- 

And then he's being enveloped in a big, firm hug. Brent's arms feel amazing as they wrap around his upper back and his cologne fills Johnny's nostrils. 

Johnny gets with the program, lifts his arms up to fit around Brent's waist.

"It's great to see you," Brent murmurs against Johnny's neck, breath hot and making him shiver. 

"You too," Johnny says. 

They step back and just look at each other. Johnny scratches at the back of his neck.

"Uh," he says, waving to the baggage claim. 

"Oh, right," Brent says sheepishly. And then they're standing in semi-awkward silence, watching luggage spin round and round. 

"That's me," Brent finally says, and grabs for his suitcase.

"You ready then?" Johnny asks, and Brent nods. They'd decided earlier in the week that Brent would stay with Johnny ("I have a spare bedroom, no reason to spend money on a hotel," Johnny told him) and they drive to his condo in near silence, Johnny tapping his fingers against the steering wheel anxiously.

"How was your flight?" Johnny asks belatedly when they're almost at his place, kicking himself for not doing it earlier. He's too wrapped up in his own nervous excitement, too freaked out over Brent being here, right in front of him, in the flesh. 

"Was good, man. I slept through most of it."

_Man_ , Johnny thinks. Just the other night, Brent was gasping into his own hand, Johnny watching avidly on his laptop as Brent panted, "Baby, oh, god, baby, I'm gonna come." 

And then he kicks himself for being so ridiculous. That doesn't -- mean anything. He calls Brent that all the time, whatever. Still, it's not like Brent had argued when Johnny offered up his guest bedroom. He'd stupidly been hoping for him to say, "Or I could, you know, stay with you."

Johnny offered the guestroom in the first place because he hadn't wanted to seem presumptuous, despite how often they were getting one another off virtually. Despite the the fact that they clearly _wanted_ each other.

It just -- it’s all feeling so surreal now. As if that world stands separate from actual reality. It’s pretty damn evident in the fact of how stilted things are between them right now that Brent is feeling it too. 

Johnny really fucking hopes this wasn't a mistake. 

They pull up to Johnny's condo and get out, Johnny grabbing Brent's suitcase for him. Brent smiles, and Johnny loosens up a little.

"So, this is my place," Johnny says, hanging his keys on the hook next to the door. "Kitchen and living room," he says, waving a hand. "Bedroom’s down the hall."

"Nice," Brent says, and yawns. 

"Sorry, you're probably exhausted," Johnny says quickly. "I know it's late."

Brent rubs the back of his neck. "Do you mind if I shower?" he asks. "I always feel gross after traveling."

"No, uh. Let me show you where everything is," Johnny says, walking down the hall, eyes a little unfocused at the thought of Brent naked in his shower. Fuck. Johnny just -- wants. 

He opens the linen closet, waving inside. "Towels, washcloths. Um, shower's pretty basic." 

He finally looks at Brent, sees him chewing his lip a little. 

"Johnny --" Brent starts, but then cuts himself off. 

"Yeah?" Johnny asks, holding his breath. 

"I, uh. Nothing," Brent says. "Thanks, I won't take long." 

Brent comes out in sleep pants and a t-shirt, his hair still wet from the shower. 

"Hey," he says, and Johnny turns from his spot on the couch to smile up at him.

"Hi," he says, and stands up. "Are you hungry at all? I could make something."

"Nah, I ate on the plane," Brent says. "Thanks, though."

They stand like that for a long moment, and Johnny hates that it's awkward. "So, uh. I thought we could get breakfast tomorrow morning, and then maybe spend the day on the water? My boat's pretty small, but I could rent something bigger and we can bring lunch and stuff out. Fish a little, have some beers?" 

Brent smiles, and Johnny's stomach swoops. "Yeah, man. That sounds great." 

Brent stifles another yawn and Johnny scratches at his neck. "You're tired, man, I'll let you sleep." 

Brent looks briefly disappointed, before smiling a little sheepishly. "Sorry I couldn't get an earlier flight." 

"Don't worry about it." 

He walks down the hallway, nerves racing as Brent follows on his heels. He wants Brent to grab him, slam him against a wall, kiss him until he can't breathe. 

Instead, they come to a stop in front of the open guestroom door. "So, uh. I'll see you in the morning." 

Brent nods, an expression on his face Johnny can't read. And then he's enveloped in a hug. Brent feels amazing, strong arms around his back, Johnny's own soap on Brent's skin assaulting his nostrils. 

"I'm glad I'm here," Brent whispers, making Johnny's skin shiver. 

He flattens his palms against Brent's back and presses against his muscle. "Same," Johnny whispers back. 

_Kiss me, kiss me_ he thinks. 

But Brent just moves back, putting distance between them again. 

"See you in the morning?" Brent says, and Johnny nods. "Night, Johnny."

"G'night, Brent," he says, and disappears into his own room.

It's impossible to sleep, though, knowing that Brent is right down the hall. He's waited so long for this, to have Brent in the flesh, but now he's second-guessing himself. 

He rolls over onto his side and closes his eyes, waiting for sleep to come.

It doesn’t though, and he tosses and turns. He feels so fucking pathetic, but he finally lets himself cup his junk, his cock half-hard, just thinking about Brent laying in Johnny's guest bed. He slips his hand inside his boxers and breathes out softly, jerking his cock to full hardness, thinking of Brent. It's ridiculous, doing this as if Brent's still in Chicago. Johnny should just -- but he can't. 

He closes his eyes and thinks about Brent in the next room, imagine Brent's doing this same thing, maybe has his boxers down around his thighs, jerking his dick furiously, thinking about Johnny doing the same.

He's coming before too long, and he bites his forearm to keep from crying out. 

He dozes off easily after that, come drying on his belly. 

________________________

Johnny’s already had a shower and is in the kitchen putting the coffee on when Brent strolls into the kitchen. He’s shirtless in just his boxers and -- fuck. 

Johnny really didn’t need to know how gorgeous Brent looks in the mornings. Rumpled and beautiful, thick Disney-prince hair all messy to the point that Johnny wants to run his fingers through it, just to mess it up some more. 

"Morning," Brent says, lazily.

“Morning,” Johnny says. “How do you take your coffee?” 

“Cream, one sugar. Thanks.” 

“Sure. Sleep well?” 

Brent opens his mouth before closing it again. “Yeah, uh. It was comfortable, thanks.” 

“So, we can go out to breakfast whenever you’re ready? There’s a pretty good diner not far away.” 

“Sounds great,” Brent says, smiling. “Be right back.” 

He starts to go before turning again. “Lookin’ good, Johnny,” he murmurs, eyes roaming down Johnny’s bare chest, just the way he did the first night they Skyped. 

“Yeah, you too,” he replies with sincerity, letting his own eyes roam. The energy in the air crackles between them, suddenly charged. 

“Back in a few,” Brent says, winking at Johnny over his shoulder. And for the first time really since Brent got here, Johnny feels like their regular dynamic is back. 

He whistles to himself as he waits for the coffee to finish. 

Breakfast is good.

Breakfast is great, actually, and by the time the server is leaving their bill, Johnny's got an ankle hooked over Brent's under the table and he can't stop smiling.

They'd packed the car before they left, so they take the drive out to the lake leisurely. They argue playfully over which radio station to listen to, settling on some pop station that at least doesn't make Johnny's ears bleed like the country Brent had chosen first. 

"Hey," Brent says suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm having fun," Brent says with a smile, and there's that swoop in Johnny's stomach again. 

In the end, Brent convinces Johnny they don't need much more than the space his little boat provides. They load the cooler and Johnny's tackle box and poles, and before long, they're in the middle of the lake, the sun warm on their backs. 

"God, I miss this," Brent says, casting his line again. "Chicago's great, but I haven't done this in years."

Johnny grins at him. "It's great, yeah? Summers up here are amazing. My buddy's Dan got a bigger boat than me, so we take that out a lot too. I do a lot of wakeboarding."

"Yeah?" Brent asks. "I think that's something I'd pay good money to see." He throws Johnny a wink, and Johnny flushes, flattered. 

"Tell you what," he says. "You catch enough fish for us to have dinner tonight, you'll get the wakeboarding show for free."

Brent laughs loudly, his head thrown back, and Johnny would give anything to get his mouth on the smooth, pale skin of Brent's neck. He clears his throat and casts his own line again.

They talk a lot, compare the end of the school years, discuss the differences of the kids they teach. Brent loves teaching high school; Johnny would probably rage out. He prefers younger kids. 

"Less annoying," Johnny says. 

Brent laughs. "Mine aren't too bad. I get them interested in science and shit. I can be a bit of a nerd." 

Johnny would kill to see that, actually. 

"Your secret is safe with me," he winks. 

They catch a lot of fish. Some are too small and they need to throw them back, but the others are just right. 

"Does this mean I get my free show?" Brent asks, waggling his eyebrows. 

"Yeah, I'd say you might've earned that," he replies, letting his voice go low and suggestive. 

Brent grins, and Johnny swallows. "I'll call Dan tonight. I'm sure he'd love to meet you, since all I've been doing is talking about you for the last, oh, I don't know. While, anyway."

"Yeah?" Brent says, as Johnny stands to cast his line again. His back is to Brent, and he feels the boat shift slightly. Brent's standing behind him before he registers what's happening, looping his arms around Johnny's waist and hooking his chin over Johnny's shoulder. "Confession time," Brent says, his voice low. "I've been wanting to kiss you since I got off the plane."

Johnny nearly drops his line in his effort to turn in Brent's arms. They're so close their noses brush, and Johnny lets out the breath he'd been holding. "Then what are you waiting for?" he asks, and leans in.

It's everything he imagined it being. Brent's lips are warm and pliant under his, and he opens up to Johnny beautifully, tilting his head to deepen the kiss when Johnny gets a hand in his hair.

Johnny loses track of how long they kiss, tongues tangling, the sounds of their breathing rough and loud against the lapping of the water against the boat. Johnny's pole falls to his side so he can wrap both hands around Brent's waist. He groans deeply into Brent’s mouth when his hands drag down over Johnny’s ass. 

The boat teeters and they both freeze, then laugh into the kiss. Johnny feels a weight lift from his shoulders, and he rests his forehead against Brent's, still peppering his mouth with soft kisses.

"Well, now that _that's_ out of the way," Brent says, and Johnny laughs again, kissing him one last time before pulling away. 

"You wanna go back?" he asks, his eyes trained on Brent's mouth. "I'm starting to get hungry."

Brent shrugs and sits back down, reeling his line back in. "I could eat."

"I wasn't talking about food," Johnny says over his shoulder, and Brent grins at him. It's enough to make his heart hammer in his chest, the anticipation of finally getting his hands on Brent thrumming through his veins.  
_____________________________________

Despite what Johnny says, he does end up firing up the grill when they come back. It's just the way he is when it comes to fish; wants to eat his catch as fast as possible. They cleaned them all prior to leaving the lake, so it's not too much work when they get back to his place. It feels relaxed and -- nice, the way the two of them move around Johnny's kitchen together, gathering up the spices to make a blend to brush over the fish. As relaxed as it is, it's also heated, with shared, secretive looks and glancing touches. 

Outside in front of the grill, Brent wraps his arms around Johnny's waist, mouthing at his still-warm skin from the sun. 

Johnny lets out a soft groan, pressing back into the touch. 

"You're gonna distract me and I'm gonna burn dinner," Johnny mumbles, and Brent smiles against his neck.

"I'm sorry," Brent replies, not sounding sorry at all. "I'll go back inside." 

Johnny turns in Brent's arms and grips his hips. "Don't you dare," he says, ducking in for a kiss. 

Brent practically growls against his lips, pulling Johnny in, arms around his waist and sliding down to his ass, palming above his shorts. 

"God, Johnny," he says in between hot, biting kisses. "Never wanna stop touching your ass, baby." 

Johnny moans against Brent's mouth, flicking his tongue between his lips. He goes warm all over when Brent drops the term of endearment, and he can't help but smile, ducking his head so his face is pressed against Brent's neck.

"What?" Brent asks. "What's wrong?"

Johnny pulls back, biting his lip. "Nothing, just -- that's the first time you've called me that since you've been here," he says. "I like it."

Brent grins at him, thumbing at his lips. "Well," he says quietly, tracing Johnny's mouth with his fingertips. "Wasn't sure how much of -- all that would transfer when we saw each other in person. So... I'm glad you like it."

"Never really have before," Johnny murmurs, before moving his head to drag his lips against Brent's beard. 

"Never really have what?" Brent asks, cupping Johnny's neck.

"Liked that," Johnny admits. "Being called baby, or sweetheart, or whatever. Just wasn't my thing." He shrugs and kisses Brent again.

"And now?" Brent says, and Johnny can tell he's biting back a smile.

"Now I do," Johnny says simply. 

Brent splays his hand over the side of Johnny's neck, his thumb strong on Johnny’s jaw as he angles him for another kiss, slow and deep. 

"Good," he pants out when they break apart. Johnny's dick is joining this party pretty insistently now. He can feel Brent hard against him as well, and he rocks into the friction. "Because after dinner I wanna get you naked, spread out on your bed, _sweetheart_." 

Johnny goes a little weak in the knees and considers abandoning the fish altogether, but Brent swats him on the ass and disappears inside to let Johnny finish grilling.

He manages to finish everything without burning their meal or throwing his hands up in the air, saying fuck it, and cornering Brent in the kitchen. 

Dinner’s good. He roasted some corn on the grill, too, and he gets Brent to open a bottle of white. They eat outside, Johnny remaining half-hard throughout it. He's got music playing on his portable speakers and the night is cool around them while they sit on the deck, talking quietly through anticipatory looks. Brent's bare feet stroke up and down the skin of Johnny's calf, sending tingles through his body. 

"This is nice," Brent says, smiling softly at Johnny. "Gonna suck when I have to go back."

Johnny frowns and puts down his glass. "I don't wanna talk about that right now. We've still go the rest of the week," he says, sliding his hand across the table to cover Brent's. He's nervous, suddenly, his heart rate picking up and an anxious pit forming in his stomach. "You wanna go inside?" he asks, and he can feel the back of his neck heating up. 

He watches Brent swallow as he links their fingers together. "Yeah," he says, voice a little rough. "I really do." 

They pick up the plates and bring them into the kitchen, leaving the rest of the wine chilling in its holder. They walk hand in hand from the kitchen and down the hall to Johnny's room and Brent steps in close when they get inside. This time when their mouths meet it’s slow and gentle, none of the quiet desperation from earlier, but no less sensual. 

It's nothing like Johnny expected. He expected frenzied kissing, ripping at one another's clothes, mouths on skin and heated grinding. 

Not that he's complaining. 

Brent undresses him slowly, carefully, mouthing at every bit of skin he exposes. His tongue circles Johnny's navel and Johnny lets out a shaky breath, his eyes falling closed.

They're still standing at the edge of the bed.

Johnny's legs tremble when Brent undoes his shorts. He's kneeling in front of Johnny, still mouthing at his skin, lips sucking a mark on his hipbone. Brent leaves his fly parted, Johnny’s bulge evident. He ignores it, though, and instead focuses on dragging his large palms up and down Johnny’s calves and thighs. 

Johnny sucks in a shuddering breath, trailing off on a moan when Brent's hands move to grip the meat of his ass, squeezing firmly. 

"Lie down for me, baby," Brent whispers, nuzzling his face against the heat of Johnny's erection. 

Johnny swallows hard and sits on the edge of the bed, scooting backwards until his legs aren't hanging off the edge anymore. He leans back on his elbows and looks down at Brent, who licks his lips. 

"You're fucking gorgeous, you know that?" Brent says softly, nosing along Johnny's abdomen. 

Johnny squirms and threads his fingers through Brent's thick hair, letting his hand come to rest on the back of Brent's neck as Brent peppers kisses all along over his belly.

Johnny's head drops back on the bed as he brings his other hand to card through Brent's hair, looking down at the way Brent’s bent over Johnny, legs on either side of his thighs. Brent plants soft, wet kisses up his abdomen, tonguing over his nipples, licking a slow line up to his neck before finding his mouth, slotting a leg between Johnny's thighs and pressing his weight on top of him. 

"Get this off," Johnny whispers, tugging at the hem of Brent's shirt. He watches as Brent sits back on his heels and peels his shirt up and off, revealing a broad expanse of smooth, pale skin. Johnny flattens his palms against Brent's chest, runs them up over Brent's shoulders and down his arms. "I can't believe you're here," he admits, and Brent smiles before ducking in to kiss him again.

Johnny licks into his mouth, slowly, broad strokes of tongue that send sparks shooting up his spine. He drags his nails up and down Brent's back, groaning as their dicks press together, hips just barely moving. Johnny hasn't even gotten himself or Brent out of their pants yet, but he's also loving the feel of Brent's body too much to even attempt it right now. He drags his hands down to the small of Brent’s back, slipping beneath his waistband and squeezes. 

Johnny savors the groan that escapes Brent's mouth, swallowing it as he kisses him. They grind together lazily, fingertips dragging over exposed skin. Johnny kisses his way down Brent's neck and back up again, then lets his head drop to Brent's shoulder. 

"Fuck," he manages, squeezing Brent's bicep. "I wanna get my mouth all over you."

"Yeah?" Brent says softly, tucking his fingers into the waistband of Johnny's shorts and underwear and pulling gently. "I was just thinking the same thing," he says, and Johnny groans when his dick bobs free. 

Johnny kicks his shorts to the foot of the bed and closes his eyes when Brent trails his fingertips over the head of his cock.

"Gonna make you come so hard, babe," Brent says, before leaning in to kiss Johnny, slow and sweet and God, Johnny's heart is gonna come out of his chest.

Brent leans back and undoes his own pants, sitting up just enough that he's able to kick them off before wrapping a hand around the base of his own dick, stroking slowly. 

Johnny's mouth waters. Brent's cock is gorgeous, long and flushed at the head, a dark nest of hair at the base. Johnny covers Brent's hand with is own, and Brent rolls his neck to the side, his jaw slack.

"I can't believe I'm finally touching you," Johnny says, his voice barely a whisper. "God, I've been wanting to do this for so long."

"Me too," Brent says, voice thick, blinking slowly at Johnny through his eyelashes. He reaches out again, gets his free hand around Johnny's dick, matching Johnny's pace of their intertwined hands. "Jerked off last night, wishing it was you." 

Johnny's breath seizes in his chest, really fucking happy he wasn't the only one. He grins lazily. "Yeah, well. Same." 

Brent groans at that, pushes forward so he's blanketing Johnny again. Johnny shakes Brent's hands off, gets his own around both of their dicks, pumping in long, steady strokes as Brent licks into his mouth again. 

"Shit," Brent gasps against Johnny's lips. "Yeah, babe, just like that, feels so good."

Johnny swipes his thumb over the head of Brent's dick, and Brent rolls his hips, fingers digging into Johnny's bicep.

"I want," Johnny manages between kisses. "I want you to fuck me, babe," and Brent stills at that, pulls back just enough that he can meet Johnny's eyes. Brent's hair is falling into his face; Johnny pushes it back over his forehead.

"You sure?" Brent says quietly, even as he's rocking into Johnny's hand.

"Yeah," Johnny says, slowing the pace of his hand, leaning in to lick at the sweat that's gathering at the hollow of Brent's throat. "Want your dick inside me." 

He bites at Brent's skin, loving the way Brent's fingers dig harder into his arms and the way breath sounds punched out of him when he exhales. Clearly Johnny isn't the only one who wants that badly. 

Brent cups Johnny's face in his hands and leans in to brush their noses together, kissing him gently. 

"Bedside table," Johnny says, and Brent kisses him again before leaning over to fumble in the drawer for lube and condoms.

"Gonna make you feel so good," he tells Johnny, peppering kisses along his collar bones. He slicks his fingers up and dips them between Johnny's legs, pressing the tip of one against Johnny's hole, tugging lightly at the rim. 

"Fuck, yeah," Johnny groans, his eyes rolling back in his head. "God, I want you so bad.”

Brent's slides the tip of one finger inside, just a slow tease. Johnny shudders at the touch. It's been awhile since it was anything but his own fingers in there. 

Brent kisses him the entire time, kneeling between his legs, pressing his finger in slow and deep, finding his prostate and making Johnny gasp into his mouth. Their tongues move together in a slow glide, and when Brent's got a second finger inside him, twisting them just right, Johnny moans and spreads his legs wider. 

"Yeah baby," Brent breathes. "Like that?"

Johnny grips his shoulders hard, clenching down around his fingers. "What do you think?" Johnny murmurs against his lips. 

Brent grins against him, curving his fingers upward just so and licking lewdly at Johnny's mouth. They lose a few seconds to kissing and touching before Brent pulls back. 

"I think your ass is gonna feel even more amazing around my dick," Brent whispers, a slow trail of spit connecting his lips as he leans back to sit on his heels.

Johnny groans, his hands sliding down from Brent's shoulders over his chest, just mapping the expanse of him. He spreads his legs even wider, Brent's fingers slipping in deeper in the process. "Do it." 

Brent leans in to kiss Johnny again before leaning back on his heels to roll the condom on over his shaft. Johnny watches with hooded eyes as Brent slicks himself up, one big hand stroking his cock. He groans when Brent leans forward, sucks Johnny down without preamble. His hips arch off the bed. He nearly sobs when Brent pulls off with a loud pop, missing the warmth. 

He’s about to shove up, make him do it again, but then Brent gets a hand on Johnny's thigh, presses upward to give himself some room as he gets into position. Johnny grabs for him, fingertips digging into Brent's bicep as Brent guides himself inside.

"Shit," he breathes, eyes falling closed. "Johnny, _fuck_ , you feel so good."

Johnny breathes in and out, pulling air into his lungs as he relaxes his body for Brent. He licks his own lips, fingers tightening on Brent's arm, the other lazily working his dick. When Brent's mostly inside Johnny tugs him in closer, letting go of his cock to wrap both arms around Brent's neck. 

"C'mere," Johnny whispers, words sticking in his throat. "Just, closer."

Brent leans in so they're almost chest to chest and kisses Johnny gently. Their mouths are barely moving, their lips just brushing together with each slow rock of Brent's hips. Johnny's eyes fall closed and Brent kisses his eyelids, and it's so sweet that Johnny's heart stutters in his chest. Fuck, this is nothing like he thought it would be. 

It feels like he's in a dream, a haze filling up his mind and behind his eyes as Brent's lips trace over his skin, down his cheek, over his jaw, finding his neck and pressing there, making Johnny's pulse jump in his throat. He holds onto Brent, spreads his legs wider, wraps them around Brent's hips and pulls him in even closer with the balls of his feet. 

"God, Johnny," Brent breathes against his throat, making Johnny shiver. He rolls his hips, rocking in deeper before shifting a little so they're kissing again, licking slow and languid into one another's mouths. 

Johnny drags his fingertips down Brent's spine and back up again, his hand settling on the back of Brent's neck, tangling in his hair. Their foreheads are pressed together, and when their eyes lock, Johnny's stomach swoops. Brent smiles, warm and open, and Johnny feels like he's about to come apart at the seams, overwhelmed.

"Tell me how it feels," Brent whispers, kissing his way down Johnny's jaw to his neck. "I wanna hear you, babe, c'mon."

Johnny moans and arches his back, one arm gripping Brent's bicep. "So fucking good," he manages, and licks his lips, breathing heavily. "Can't -- _fuck_ \-- can't believe you're here, god, don't _stop_."

"Never," Brent whispers, closing his lips around Johnny's clavicle and sucking a bruise into his skin. 

Johnny digs his nails into Brent's back, feeling the strong muscles bunch beneath his touch as his cock drags over his prostate. 

And maybe Brent wasn't lying when he said he wasn't going to stop, because god, it feels like they do it forever, fucking slow and languid, trading off deep kisses and panting breaths. Johnny's dick rides along the plaens of Brent's abs until Brent finally snakes his hand between them. 

"Oh, god," Johnny gasps, back arching like a bow into the touch. 

"I’m so close, sweetheart," Brent mumbles against Johnny's ear. "Fuck, you feel so good, I can't --"  
He comes with a groan, burying his face in Johnny's neck, the rhythm of his hand on Johnny's dick faltering. 

"Fuck," Johnny gasps, reaching down between them to pick up the pace again.

Brent moans, rubbing his beard against Johnny's shoulder. It's rough against his skin, leaving a burn that makes him shudder in the best ways. 

"Sorry," Brent says, "I got it," he says, and then covers Johnny's hand with his own, hips still moving. 

"Fuck," Johnny repeats, chasing the rhythm of their hands and coming on a long, low gasp. 

Brent collapses on top of him, moving just enough that he can pull out gently, panting against Johnny's shoulder. 

"Oh my god," he mumbles, and Johnny laughs softly, squeezing Brent's hip.

"Yeah," he agrees, and kisses Brent's temple.

"Mmm," Brent hums, lifting his head and fitting their mouths together, kissing him slow and deep. 

Johnny groans and kisses back, until his face hurts from it, his cheeks are scratchy and Brent has to get up and get rid of the condom. 

"Sleep," Johnny mumbles when Brent's padding back to the bed, his eyes already closing, curling onto his side. 

"Yeah," Brent says quietly, but he's also got a tissue, and wipes at Johnny's stomach. 

"Mm, thanks," Johnny says, pushing his body back against Brent's. 

Brent kisses the side of his face and down his neck. "Night, Johnny," he whispers.

"Night," he thinks he says back, but maybe he dreams it, too at peace already from the feel of Brent's arms around him and his body pressed against his back. 

________________________________________

When we wakes up, the sun is shining in through the blinds and Brent is sitting up next to him, smiling at him over a mug of coffee.

"Morning," Johnny says, and grins sleepily, stretching his arms over his head. 

"Sleep well?"

"Mmm," Johnny says into Brent's side. "Best night's sleep I've had in awhile."

"Any particular reason?" Brent teases, ducking down to kiss the top of Johnny's head. 

"Don't fish," Johnny says, rolling his eyes. "And gimme some of that coffee." 

Brent laughs, waving it teasingly under Johnny's nose. "Oh, man, you're gonna make my _life_ if you're grumpy in the morning." 

"Well," Johnny says, grinning again. "Normally I am, but I gotta show you my good side, right?"

"Damn straight," Brent whispers, kissing his lips softly. "Your own cup is on your nightstand, by the way." 

Johnny beams at him. 

_____________________________

The rest of Brent's visit passes in a flash. They spend an afternoon on Dan's boat, where Johnny gives Brent the wakeboarding show he'd promised (Johnny enjoys the way Brent has to discreetly adjust himself in his trunks). They have a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant Johnny's co-workers recommended, and on the night before Brent's set to leave, Johnny asks if he wants to have dinner with his parents.

"We don't have to," he says quickly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I just thought -- I mean, my mom's been asking if I"m seeing anyone, and I didn't want to lie --"

"Johnny," Brent says, stepping into his space, one hand cupping his jaw. "Yeah, babe. Of course. I'd love to meet your family."

Johnny leans up for a kiss, their mouths meeting slow and easy, his fingers on Brent's hips. They've had a ridiculous amount of sex this week, like they're trying to give themselves memories that will hold them over for… whenever they actually see each other again. Which they haven't discussed. 

Johnny likes having a plan, knowing where his life is going. Brent's entire existence is throwing all of that out of whack, but he can't say he minds completely. He'd just rather also know where they stand after this week is said and done, and they're back to reality. 

Brent isn't freaking out over this dinner invitation that Johnny really did try to get out of, though, so he supposes that's a plus.

"They're harmless, really," Johnny assures. "Well, my mom’s a little intense."

" _You're_ a little intense," Brent says, voice fond as he noses up behind Johnny’s ear.

Johnny blushes.Okay, so maybe Johnny went a little apeshit on the golf course with Brent, Dan, and Blair the other day. He wasn’t exactly proud of Brent seeing that side of him, but he figured it was better sooner than later. 

(Brent had just grinned and called him Mr. Serious while Dan ruffled Johnny's hair, saying it was just "par for the course," because Dan was the cheesiest motherfucker ever.)

"You like me anyway, though," Johnny deadpans, dragging his fingertip along the hem of Brent's shirt and skimming along his skin. 

"I do," Brent whispers, pressing a kiss to his neck. 

The sincerity in his voice makes Johnny's stomach do somersaults. He forgets about parents after that, too busy pulling Brent's shirt up and off and following the path of his fingers with his mouth. 

_____________________________

"So you're the young man who's taken up so much of my son’s time this week that he can't even call his mother," his mom says when they all meet outside the restaurant.

Johnny barely holds in his groan, but Brent's just grinning easily, turning up the charm tenfold. 

"It's so nice to meet you," Brent says, leaning in to kiss his mom’s cheek. "And you as well, sir," he says politely as he extends a hand to Johnny's dad. "Shall we?" Brent holds the door open for everyone, and Johnny can't stop staring at him in awe.

"So, Brent," his mom says, after they've ordered. "Johnny tells us you're from Chicago?"

"Yes, ma'am," Brent says. "Not originally, though. I'm Canadian, born and raised." He smiles warmly, 

Johnny hooks their ankles together under the table.

"Is that so?" his dad asks, leaning in on his elbows. "What part?"

Johnny sits back and listens as Brent and his dad talk, and his mother gives him a knowing look over the table. 

"He's a very nice boy, Jonathan," his mom says in French, as they're standing near the coat check, Brent and Johnny's dad having gone to the restroom. The two of them had gotten along swimmingly, engaged in discussions about fishing and golf and hockey. 

"He is," Johnny agrees. 

She gives him an assessing look. "I’ve never seen you as the long distance relationship type though, love." 

Johnny sighs internally. She knows him too fucking well. The fact of the matter is, he and his mom are extremely similar. Except, unlike his mom, Johnny's not exactly willing to drop everything his life and run off to Chicago to be with a guy, the way his mom ran off to Winnipeg at 17 to be with his dad. 

Maybe if _he_ were still 17, when life was up in the air and not grounded. But… not now. Not right now, at any rate. It’s all still so new. 

"It's not --" he begins. "We're just -- we're taking things slow."

She gives him her most skeptical look and Johnny flushes under her gaze. God, he hopes he doesn't have a visible bite mark that he didn't catch. Brent's been... extremely enthusiastic. Johnny flushes even more, remembering last night, the two of them grinding together until they came, Brent biting down on his shoulder, letting out a muffled cry while Johnny's hands skidded over his sweat-slick skin. 

Now wasn't the time to be getting half a chub, so he shakes his head and changes the subject, the two of them talking quietly in French until Brent and his dad return. 

"You're gonna need break out the French in bed, baby," Brent whispers, low for his ears only as they're walking out of the restaurant, his parents a few feet ahead of them. "Fuckin' sexy." 

Johnny lets out an undignified giggle and squeezes his hand. 

His mom's eyes are all-knowing again when she turns her head, smiling at the softly before linking her arm with his dad's. 

______________

"That went well," Brent says as he's crawling into bed next to Johnny. "Your parents are great."

Johnny turns towards him, curls in against Brent's side. "Yeah, they are," he agrees, and kisses Brent's neck. "You're great," he says quietly, and he feels Brent smile.

The truth is, he's really not ready for Brent to leave tomorrow, and the more he thinks about it, the worse he feels. He doesn't know if he can go back to just texting and calling and Skyping, but he doesn't want Brent out of his life, either.

"I can hear you thinking," Brent says quietly. "What's up?"

"No, nothing," Johnny says, too quickly. "Just. Y'know. This week has been really great."

"It has," Brent agrees. "Thanks for having me." 

He says it like a double entendre and Johnny giggles, some of the tension in his chest loosening. 

"Anytime," Johnny says back, just as sleazy. 

"Mmm," Brent hums, rolling them over and kissing Johnny deep and slow. "How ‘bout now?" he whispers against Johnny's mouth. 

Johnny just pulls him close, biting at his lips instead of answering. It's a pretty good distraction at any rate. 

The drive to the airport the next morning is quiet. Brent's got his hand on Johnny's knee, and he squeezes every now and then, smiling at Johnny from the passenger seat. When they pull up to the curb, Brent pats Johnny's knee lightly, and Johnny's throat goes tight. 

He helps Brent get his bags from the trunk and they stand on the sidewalk, Johnny with his hands in his back pockets and Brent with his snapback tugged low over his eyes. 

"So, uh. Let me know you got home ok, yeah?" Johnny says lamely, and Brent nods, his hand moving to rest on Johnny's hip, pulling him in. He tilts his head up and lets Brent kiss him, long and slow, and then he's alone, watching Brent walk away. 

_____________________________

If Johnny thought the transition from online to in person was awkward at first, it's nothing compared to the reverse. It probably wouldn't be as weird if he knew what the hell the game plan from here on out was, but he doesn't. And Johnny, well, he's a big fan of game plans. They still text and they still have phone sex, but he’s completely on edge, unsettled. 

"I swear, Johnny, I'm tired of your mopey, pissed-off face," Dan says over beers at Earl’s about a week after Brent's left. 

"Shut up," Johnny mumbles around the rim of his bottle. 

"You've got a hot, nice guy who didn't actually give me shit over my inability to fish, unlike _some_ people I know." 

Blair laughs from the other side of Dan.

"You shut up, too," Dan says, before turning to Johnny again, spreading his palms on the bar. "I fail to see the problem here, man." 

"Use your words, man!" Blair yells across Dan. "That's what Jen always tells me." 

Johnny snorts. "That's because you're an idiot!" 

Dan gives Johnny a look. "You're a bit of an idiot too, JT, come on." 

Well. He could have a point there. 

It's late when he gets home, but he texts Brent anyway.

_hey. call me if you're up._

His phone rings just a few minutes later, and he smiles when he answers. "Hi."

"Hey, babe. Everything ok?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, I just --" _Now or never_ , he thinks, and blurts, "Are we together?"

He hears Brent laugh softly on the other end, and he relaxes, the knot of tension in his belly loosening. "So this is a _serious_ midnight conversation then."

"Shut up," Johnny says, but there's no heat behind it. 

"Johnny," Brent starts, and here it is, Johnny thinks. The moment of truth. "You know I wanna be with you. You gotta know that."

Johnny lets out a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. He has a sinking feeling there's a "but" coming. 

"But?" he says softly.

"But I don't wanna make you do the long distance thing if it's not what you want. It's hard, I know that, and it sucks, and god, I miss you like fucking _crazy_ \--"

"I miss you too," Johnny admits, cutting him off. "I wanna -- let’s do this. I wanna do this."

"You sure?" Brent asks.

He really is. If nothing else, it'll be a good test for him. And he thinks -- well. He thinks this could really be something here. He hasn't fallen this hard or this fast for someone in... probably ever. 

"I'm sure." 

"What are your plans for the rest of the summer?" Brent murmurs, sounding relaxed and happy. 

"Got none, man," Johnny smiles back, thinking he likes where this is going. 

"My turn to give you a tour of my city?" 

Johnny smiles so hard his face hurts. "I think I like that idea." 

________________________

Chicago's amazing, Johnny has to admit. (He supposes part of the reason he loves it so much is Brent, but it doesn't matter. He's happy.)

One week turns into two, and at the end of two, Johnny extends his stay again. "Aren't you getting sick of me yet?" he asks Brent as he's changing his ticket. 

Brent smirks. "Yeah, babe, it's been _such_ a hardship having you here." 

Brent snakes his arms around Johnny's waist, going up on his knees behind Johnny on the bed, from where Johnny's seated at the edge of it. His hooks his chin over Johnny's shoulder.

"Well," Johnny thinks, pausing before he hits submit on his new return date. "What if we took a trip together? You said you had some savings, right?" 

"Mmm," Brent says, kissing his neck. "That sounds wonderful." 

"Yeah," Johnny says. "And hey, it'll show us if we can really stand one another or if this is just some fluke, right?" 

He says it dryly, but part of him does think it's a good idea. Vacations can sometimes make or break a relationship. 

Brent laughs softly, his arms tightening around Johnny's waist. "I don't think this is some fluke," he says, voice sure, before tilting Johnny's chin toward him for a kiss. 

Yeah. Johnny doesn't really think it is either, to be honest. 

[end]


End file.
